Justified And Fair

No one knows where you are
so you infest your lungs
with sweetened smoke
and walk from store
to crappy store
until even the crowded
sidewalk can’t keep
up with you.

Tiny belts around each thigh
some metal rings above your eye
and another hanging loosely
from your nose.
You take a break against a wall
and while diagonal from your shadow
you imagine feeling recoil
from a rocket launcher.

You’ve never lashed out violently
against anyone but yourself,
and still you’d like to someday try it
in the proper way when everything
is justified and fair.
You kick glass as you walk
again and listen to
the car alarms and engine noise.

You wear a tattoo of a shark
across your hip and I am trying
not to picture it.
The city streets envelop you
like tall grass and I will not
walk in after you. Forgetting
would be fine with me.

However, I remember those
old headphones you
were wearing playing
record after record
in the music store,
not wanting me to leave.